When You're Smiling
by Night Ketteh Of Grim Land
Summary: Basicly, I'm not so good at summarys, but, this is about a girl trying to find her biological family....yada, yada....she has a thing for Snape....yada, yada and I need some ideas and reveiws. Trust me this is a good start.
1. Chapter 1

A/N:

Disclaimer: Sorry I'm not Jk Rowling and I own nothing out of or from Harry Potter.

I, however, own my character. My made up custom characters.Which you shall not use at all, so don't even ask.

-Grim Land  
aka  
Grim On Loose.

* * *

**Title: When You're Smiling  
Chapter One: Ribbons And Pearls**

_**--You see things through my eyes, you see things more different than different before. You see sadness. You see dark . You see me. "**I'm open**." What about me? "**I'm open all the way**." Open. Open. You see?--**_

"And Gryffindor takes the lead by twenty, with Slytherin falling behind---Oh well..." a small stringy boy named Lee Jordan remarked happily, for it was, to every other house, known that every untainted and sensible non-pure-blood hoped to witness the failure of Slytherin house for all their cruelty and unlike ability. He was dark in completion, like any other black child, but a soft chocolate velvet, he was the only son out of four girls and on top of that the oldest in one grade above me. Mr. and Mrs. Jordan, who I suspected has always doted on the boy because of his shyness and stutter-like nature, sat cheering on the apposing team. (Yes, former Gryffindors. And yes, the goody-goody doesn't fall far from the suck-up tree.) I sneered visibly, wishing I could take the beater from one of the Slytherin boys to take a bludger to that Gryff' boy Jordan just to shut his fat lipped mouth. Hissing, I watched on. The quaffill went from Hennessey to Spinnetty to Johnson, who, in hopes, shot the red leather skin ball to the outer hoop for a winning score. But a lanky Slytherin boy raised a equally lanky hand and caught it effortlessly in mid-air , passing it to Flit, who passed it to Montague, gaining us five points. I cheered half-heartedly, even though I did want Slytherin to win, I hated quiddich, with all the tedious flying around. Angelina Johnson was the daughter of a Quiddich player and was **_quite rich _**and **_quite pure_**. Shame she made it into Gryffindor. I bet she insisted on being in Gryffindor, she was playing hard-to-get with that Weasley boy, Fred I think. I made a growling noise, thirty minutes latter I fashioned a half frown. That Potter-boy was within inches of the golden snitch, with Malfoy hot on his trail. Draco Malfoy reached his arm out to his left side, only to have Harry Potter snatch it the moment his fingers grassed its small wing, winning the Quiddich Cup. Yet, there is a slight moment when you stop, look, rub your eyes, and look again saying: "is that Harry Potter", and why yes it is an enigma, raped in a conundrum, plated in gold. Yes, we indeed have the "Harry Potter" attending this school, _pity_. And, of course, Draco is the son of the infamous Lucius Malfoy, Ministry man. A man who flirts relentlessly, harasses regularly, flaunts his wealth incessantly, and cheats on the daily bases. I can tell Draco will turn out the same way. I could say lots relating to Mr. Malfoy, but once again, I hold my tongue. cough playercough ( you would probably say : "why, what a terrible thing to say" and swish your head and point your hypocritical finger. But, I'll tell you one thing: "It Wont Work", pound it into your thick sculls. And you have to know the man to _not _stand up for him. Pure scum, but deadly sexy)

"Gryffindor has won the Quiddich Cup, Gryffindor has won the Quiddich Cup" Jordan gave a holler of excitement, pushing his arms in the air like tilting up some unseen weight. I gave him a rude gesture and made sure he saw it, for I sat in the row on his right side. The announcement tower was the only thing that separated the Gryffindors and Slytherins from a certain and horrible riot. It was known that Slytherin house and Gryffindor house had nothing but hate between each other. I was standing, arms folded, in the field with the other antisocial people in the more thinner outer crowed of cheering and hooting black, scarlet, and gold Gryffindors.(at least I was told it were those colors) I sighed, shifted, and stood. I headed toward the inner huddle of lion-like students. I had some business to apply myself to. I hung back from the throng of howling students, them, bobbing up and down like rabbits in a oven. I sighed heavily, shifted from one foot to the other, gathered my wits and shoved off to the pandemonium. Of course, being a dirty, rotten, low-life Slytherin, it was unthinkable that a Slytherin and a Gryffindor would ever converse or even work together willingly, but here I am fraternizing with the enemy. I shifted the manila office folder from under the dark green of my school robes out in front of me. I scanned over the makings of the information in side and tucked it away again.

I spotted Hennessey. I remembered she would always ware ribbons and pearls. No matter if she was in the air or on the ground, she was always warring a red silk ribbon and a string of ivory white pearls. Marcela Hennessey was the daughter of Alcame Spinnetty, half sister of Alicia Spinnetty. And which of course Hennessey doesn't know and neither does her sister. It so happens that there has been plenty of dysfunctional moments in her family life, more than she can handle, so she split and went to live with her grandmother on her father's side. Marcela just so happened to change her name from Spinnetty to Hennessey, in memory of her grandmother. And some times I'm surprised by how much I'm informed with predicaments I have nothing to do with. I shrugged it off and finally stood an arms length before her. I made a 'A-hum' noise.

"I am _sorry_ to intrude on your _celebration_, but Miss Hennessey I do believe you have a dilemma that we have yet to discuss and _you should have all intention of discussing it with me_." I said so formally and flat it remained me of a robot that went where you said and did what you said.(quite amazing it you ask me) I motioned toward the exit of the pitch, she fallowed with out a word of protest.

We were far in the castle for anyone to know where we were when we started to deliberate.

"Miss Hennessey," I pulled out a one inch thick stack of parchment "I have dug as deep as I can go and what you may see will very well change your in tier view on your mother." I gave her a chance to think about it. Well, you couldn't blame me for wanting to give her time before she finds out her mother was a whore and she was a basterd child of a unknowing father. I told her everything she needed to know, or how much she could handle. There were some vary _sensitive_ issues.

"As I conclude, Miss Hennessey, You have been denied the right to know the existence of a half sister."

"Who?" was all she could say, her eyes held tears and I can't stand tears, they show weakness.

"Alicia Spinnetty." and she cried. She loved Alicia like a sister and now that she knew she was a real sister she could not contain herself. She hugged me then. I did not know how to carry out or what to voice. She just hugged me, said thank you, and fled to where ever she had to go to. And for once in my life I was envious of another. It was the end of the year and the train was leaving, I had to pack before it left with out me. It was going to be my third year dead and gone away. I could only hope that this time I make it back.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:

Disclaimer: Sorry I'm not Jk Rowling and I own nothing out of or from Harry Potter.

I, however, own my character. My made up custom characters.Which you shall not use at all, so don't even ask.

-Grim Land  
aka  
Grim On Loose.

**

* * *

**

**Title: White Knuckle Blackout  
Chapter Two: In My Life You Sink Or Swim**

**_--I could see it, touch it, smell it, taste it , but couldn't have it. Like by the slightest hairs reach out of your way. Almost there but not there. Having some one do that to you is like telling the sun more sun and rain less rain. It was like letting you have freedom and then taking it back.-- _**

_I didn't move. It was too painful to move now. I felt the blood roll down my arms leisurely in faraway looking rivers, sprawling around and under the sides of my flesh to pool slightly in the palm of my half cupped hand. I could sense the thick liquid gather to full and slosh over the fingers to drip increasingly to the floor, absorbed greedily by the already darkened wool carpet. I saw only the grime ridden ceiling tiles, my neck to stiff to move to look to anything pretty or more elegant. Cracks unfurled in slim indistinct patterns from one end to the other, branching out like that of a tree in spring-time. I hissed at my inadvertent absence of stability. I could hear the heavy wooden door beset with rich carvings swing open. It would puzzle you to think that a door so abundant in beauty would lead to a room caked and fowled with so many horrible memories than the expected room laden with more beauty. _

_"Miss? Miss? Tipsy is sent by master to heal you, Miss. Miss is not hurt too badly is she, Miss?" A diminutive little thing stepped into my range of view. She had vast ears that stuck up through her hair like a bull terrier and huge expressive eyes, pure and vibrant green. Her clothing were ragged and warn with years of use. Her stance was slightly hunched as she carried over a tray of medical supplies; potions, bandages, salve. _

_"T-Tipsy...Tippppppps..." was all I could muster, was all I could do now, that faint murmur, a silent begging plea. It was like the words formed on my tough, but died on my lips and the message never heard or questioned. She only shushed me and tried to set the bone that displayed freely through the meat of my leg and at the same time mend the gravely deep incise in the muscle of both my forearms. It was the way I remember it, the only way I remember it. This way, always this way. I could feel everything fading, see everything fading, but I could still hear. _

_"**Faraday is bleeding over the carpet."** It was faint, but I know it was her. Mother. Faint as a whisper, but I knew she was there. _


	3. Chapter 3

A/N:

Disclaimer: Sorry I'm not Jk Rowling and I own nothing out of or from Harry Potter.

I, however, own my character. My made up custom characters.Which you shall not use at all, so don't even ask.

-Grim Land  
aka  
Grim On Loose.

**

* * *

**

**Title: When You're Smiling  
Chapter Three: 14 Shades Of Gray**

**_--People walk past me, never know me, never see me. I was like the gray wilting passions in the middle of a rose red field. You could see me with out seeing me, yet no one saw me. I was the ghost, I sang black sorrow lullabies. I was the halo of thorns. --_**

The years were gray, passing in a haze of muted monotonousness. A white spot on a canvas of color. I ran the tip of my fore finger against the handle and down the side of the leather that made the suitcase before me. It was a coarse leather, the shade of walnuts in spring and the smell of it was light, almost like a room that was never opened, always kept privet. Hogworts again. I was going back. It was my sixth year. In Sytherin, with all the other Slytherins. In all the same lackluster places and all the same hostilities and all the same blaming games. It was humdrum in Hogwarts. Slytherin clash with Gryffindor, Gryffindor gets their panties in a twist and Slytherin has a hissy fit. Its how it works. I looked at the clock on the sickly pink wall, 7:39 AM the numbers flashed neon. I was at my aunt Lola's house. She was muggle like mum was. (dad was wizard, mum was muggle, I was adopted) Lyra Harpen adopted me at seven and remarried when I was ten (car crash, died on impact) to a wizard. Adam was a nice man, he had a sense of humor and hansom smile and cooked like a prize chef, but sadly horrible at magic. So, he decided to elope to the muggle world and met Lyra, hence why she is Lyra Jorgenson. As much for my biological parents, I have no remembrances of them. I can't remember them, like all memory was wiped clean but my dreams. I looked at the clock again, 8:45AM. I was late. I ran, called the night bus and left. _Bye mum_, I guess you won't say good bye too.

I could see it the train was still there, resting there like a toy, waiting to be moved by the player. It never left. _Shit, I'm an idiot_. I was early, like an hour early. _Shit, I am idiot_. I could have lost a hundred ponds running like that and there was only a rounded twenty people there. _Shit. Shit. Double shit. _I ran into some one, his cane dropped, my laptop fell. _Shit. Shit. Bloody fucking hell shit. _"I'm sorry," I lifted myself up, picked up his cane on the way, shoved it at him, got my laptop and walked away. _Son of a bitch, god damn, bastard_. It broke. _Fuck_. And I have to fix it. _Fuck_. I despise the world and the anger and rage and shame pored out of my mouth like venom. Pause. Who was that? Turn. Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy. A man so graced by the angles to look so heaven sent, flawless and beautiful like a memento of undying moon glow. With hair like the color of a beam of light and eyes so clear gray it was just roughly white and skin so pale you could more or less see the blue of his veins. Ah Lucius- whom the angels bestowed a Malfoy. Malfoys were touched by the same beauty, a dark foreboding beauty, pricked by greed and hate and pride. They want what they can't have and so they want it. He was with Draco and Draco had that moon beauty like all Malfoy men do, but he had more blond hair like his mother and darker eyes like his mother. But, he had the same temper as his father, the very same. Lucius didn't looked fazed, he only wiped off the part where I held it with a green silk handkerchief embroidered "LM" in threaded silver. I couldn't help but think did I make a mistake. I sat down a few meters away from them, got out my tools and started to fix my computer. I looked back at them. Just one look. Only one. I took my CD player out and fished for a MCR record in the messenger bag I brought. It made me sad, the way he sang, soft at first then louder and more desperate, longing. He sang like he never knew how to sing, like he felt it killing the pain. He had a voice like I've never heard, like he was angry and sad and confused all mixed in one and thrown at you. Like he had to face life like we all have to. I would listened to the heavy guitar toned melody, a sad slow melody, the way I like it to be.

_You could relate to it. You could take it in. It was like you broke all my walls and took my moments and strung them together into sounds and words and lined verses. You could feel it vibrate. It was alive. And like a heart it throbbed._

A long extended horn was blown at that moment. My eyes were up then. My feet were moving then. The songs still echoed off the walls of my mind. Still there. It echoed "still there." I turned around again. The last time. Just once. The last time and she'll be there. But, she's not. Just once. Only just once. _bye mom._


End file.
